Rolling Thunder
by extraflxmey
Summary: Ten years after the accident occurred, Blake Bradley visits the grave of a lifetime friend, accomplice, and wife. One-shot. Tori/Blake-centric. T for, like, two curse words.


Blake Bradley stared at the floor of the car, his hands clasped tightly together.

Far away, he could hear Hunter murmuring words of comfort, patting him on the back.

But Blake was locked up in his own little world of despair, sadness, and darkness.

"Blake?" Firm hands gripped his shoulder, and Blake blinked, finding himself locked in the grasp of Hunter. "We're here."

Blake took a deep, shuddering breath and slowly swung his legs out of the car, walking methodically and taking small, tiny steps into the yard.

"Hey." Shane caught up to him. "You alright?" He paused. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

Blake violently shook his head. "I—no. It's alright. I want to."

_"I'll be back in an hour."_

Last words she ever said. Blake remembered it as clearly as day, even though it happened ten years ago.

Well, damn it, she was never coming back. Ever.

She could have come back.

But no, some fucking stupid drunk dude just decided that he needed to go out for a drive, and it was all over in a second. Blake wasn't even able to see her one last time; the crash had just caused a…explosion, pretty much. Went up in flames.

Blake had quite a reputation as a motocross competitor now; after winning several competitions after joining Factory Blue.

But he still felt as if a part of his heart was missing. Winning shiny gold first place trophies wouldn't cover it.

He was jolted out of his moody thoughts when Dustin touched him on the shoulder. "Um, Blake, I suggest you stop walking before you trip over…y'know."

For once, the former Yellow Wind Ranger wasn't in a mood for a joke.

Blake bit his lip and kneeled down, gently brushing away the dirt and dust that had accumulated over the marble gravestone after ten years of wind exposure and weathering. But the etchings on it were still as deep and clear as ever.

Blake felt a single teardrop slide down his face and land in the dirt at the foot of the tombstone.

He reached into his jacket and took out a photo, a group photo of all of the six former Ninja Storm Rangers, the last that they ever took before the accident.

He didn't even like to think about it.

Visibly trembling, Blake placed the photo at the foot of the stone.

_Why did you leave me?_ Blake cried out in his mind. _Why?_

"Dad?" Storm nudged him, and softly said, "It's time to go."

"Leave me alone, please."

Storm spun him around, forcing him to look into her blue-ish gray eyes, her face.

Tori's face. She was an exact replica of the former Blue Wind Ranger.

"I know that it's hard. We all do. She was my mom. The other guys"—she gestured towards Shane, Dustin, Hunter, and Cam—"were her best friends, right? But we lost her, we can't lose you too. You have to stay strong. It's what Mom would have wanted."

Blake's eyes were downcast. "I…I don't…"

"She would have wanted us to move on," Storm whispered.

Blake swallowed, feeling as if he was the child and she was the parent. "Fine. Just a second. You guys go on."

Storm looked doubtful, but she pushed her way through the little thicket of trees. Shane and the others gave Blake one last worried look, but followed suit. Soon, Blake was left alone with the weeping willows and one grave marker, that was all that was left to remind him of the past.

Of the good times, good places. Adventures, nights spent around a campfire, just talking. Their first date.

Blake picked the photo up—Shane, Hunter, Dustin, and Cam were all on either side of Tori or Blake, all of them laughing and having a good time. He looked at it sadly, and then fixed it to the grave. "For you…" he murmured, tracing his fingernail over the deeply etched words on the marble.

_Tori Bradley_

_Born August 9, 1985—Died November 20, 2016_

On a fanatical whim, Blake whipped out a small Swiss Army knife. He didn't care if he would be vandalizing cemetery property; this was his _wife_.

Once he was done feverishly working over carving out the letters, he examined his handiwork.

Messily carved, but it would do.

_And Former Blue Wind Power Ranger_

_We Love You._

* * *

><p><strong>Oh my god. Cheesiest ending <em>ever<em>. Oh, well, I wrote this at 1:35 in the morning. O.O**


End file.
